


Idle Hands

by laughablyunimportant



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demon Deals, Gen, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughablyunimportant/pseuds/laughablyunimportant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave makes a deal with a demon to bring his brother back. (<a href="http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/19475.html?thread=5221139#cmt5221139">x</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle Hands

The second you see his face, you know it was worth it.   
Then he opens his eyes and his first words to you are "You piece of shit."

You flinch back (it'd be hard not to). But a second later you've schooled your features into impassivity, a flippant "You're welcome" your only answer before you turn to go.

He catches your wrist, fingers rough against your skin. You refuse to look at him, some part of you worried he'll see the tears brimming, even behind your shades. "Why'd you do it?" he asks.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, color your voice with anger to hide the hollowness in your chest. "Guess I thought you'd be happy to see me. What a fucking joke, right?" You try to yank your hand away, but his grip on you tightens, and you squawk at the sudden burst of pain as the bones in your wrist grind together. He finally releases your hand when you turn to face him.

He's paler than he ever was back before, paler than when all the blood drained out of him, smeared across your hands and his shirt and every-fucking-where except where it was supposed to be. There's smudges under his eyes and stubble peppering his chin and that makes no sense, do people have to sleep in the afterlife? Does hair keep growing, and coming back to life meant your Bro missed his morning shave? He pulls himself to sit up in bed, letting out a grunt and seeming the worse for wear. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize there's a scar, ugly and red like it just healed over yesterday, right above his hip, four inches across.

His eyes meet yours and he heaves out a sigh. "Take off the fucking shades, kid." You open your mouth, but his hand darts out before you can object. The two of you wrestle for a minute, and it's harder for him than it should be to get the shades from you, gripping your jaws tight in one hand and forcing you to look at him. You blink rapidly, glaring, like that'll make him forget the tears spilling out. 

His gaze softens after a minute, thumb brushing away the moisture on your cheek. "Damnit kid," he huffs out. "Of course I'm happy to see you, but not if it means you sold your fucking soul." 

Your gaze goes to the side, shoulders hunching up. "It's what we do for family, right?"

His bark of laughter is sharp and too loud. "I don't think 'sell your soul to resurrect your dead brother' is in any family manual." His hand slides around to the back of your head and he pulls you in for an unexpected hug, arms tight around you. Your nose ends up buried in the crook of his neck, and you can't shake the feeling that he smells like sulfur. 

"It's good to see you," he says. 

"It's good to see you too," you mumble into his neck. 

An arm moves up and down your back, rough motions of affection unfamiliar but welcome. "We'll figure this out, okay? No fucking demon is gonna get my little brother's soul."

You choke out a sob, arms wrapping tighter around him. To be honest, you don't care if the two of you figure out a way to renege on your deal with the devil or not. All you really care about is that if that's what the two of you do, that's what the two of you do.

Together.


End file.
